Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger-Chapter 87: EX . Drawback

As a trial taker, there was only one path to advancement, only one way to climb the ranks that defined power within the Federation:

Arts.

Unlike Skills, which were fixed in form and level, bound to rarity and ceiling, Arts were fluid. They weren’t static. They grew, evolving with the trial taker as they ascended through the ranks. That evolution, that synergy between taker and art, was what made Arts the perfect conduit for achieving Enlightenment, the sacred act of transcending one’s current limits and stepping into a higher Trial Rank.

There were nine ranks of trial takers within the Federation, stretching from F at the lowest, to SSS at the peak. Each rank-up demanded more than just brute strength or experience, it demanded a resonance with the Trial World itself, a deep-rooted understanding of one’s art.

To achieve that resonance, to reach Enlightenment, trial takers relied on Arts. These were classified into four tiers:

Basic, Advanced, Superior and Supreme.

Each rank determined how far the art could be taken, and thus, how far the taker could grow. A Basic Art could only take you so far, perhaps. Supreme Arts, on the other hand, were rare legacies, capable of guiding a trial taker all the way to SSS-rank, if their will and mind endured.

****

But for Leon Kael, the challenge wasn’t just finding any art.

His problem was far worse.

Due to his absurdly high stats, something that most F-rankers could only dream of, even the Advanced or Superior Arts wouldn’t be enough to tip him into Enlightenment. His resonance threshold had already outgrown Phantom Edge, his current Basic Art. It could no longer serve as a bridge to the next rank.

"I planned to use Evo Points to evolve Phantom Edge..."

"...but I can’t rely on that anymore."

His thoughts were sharp as he walked through the base, ignoring the murmurs of passing soldiers. There were only two viable options left for someone like him:

Find a Supreme Art or create one from scratch.

The first option sounded simple, but Supreme Arts were practically myths, with the only one within the Federation belonging to the Yakomoto family. The likelihood of the base offering one was practically impossible.

The second was borderline madness.

Creating an art? That was something only true monsters of the Trial World ever achieved. It required insight, talent, instinct, and a profound connection with one’s abilities. But Leon believed, no, he knew, he had what it took. Why?

Because of the Evo Point.

One precious Evo Point wasn’t enough to evolve a basic art all the way to Supreme.

But if he created an original art, even a fragment of one, a single Evo Point would be enough to solidify it, to shape it into something real, something powerful, and most importantly, something that resonated.

"To do that, I need more arts."

"The ones from the estate aren’t enough."

"I just hope this base has enough material to get me to the threshold."

His steps slowed as he reached the familiar hallway that led to his squad’s accommodation. The metal door hissed open as he entered. The thought still echoed in his mind.

Find a Supreme Art... or make one myself.

Either way... I will ascend.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the weight of ambition sharp in his eyes.

****

As Leon stepped into the accommodation assigned to his squad, the door clicked softly behind him, sealing away the outside noise. The air was still. The shared common room was empty, its lights humming faintly above as he glanced around.

"They must be busy training," he muttered to himself with a casual shrug.

There was a faint smirk on his face as he kicked off his boots and stretched his arms.

"Well... it’s for the best. With the missions we’re going to take, it’ll be bad if anyone’s dragging us down."

He walked across the common room, his footsteps echoing slightly on the polished metal floor. Truthfully, Leon would have preferred to go alone. Having others around meant adjusting his rhythm, slowing his pace, and wasting valuable energy on coordination.

But there was a rule.

"For the first week, every mission a Combatant takes must involve their cadets, to help ’show them the ropes,’" Leon muttered with an eye-roll.

A strange policy... especially considering he had joined at the same time as them.

"No problem,"

"I’m sure I’ll make it work. Thirty strongholds this week won’t be much."

His words hung heavy in the air, 30 strongholds, a nearly insane number for any regular squad. But Leon wasn’t regular. And in his mind, every stronghold was just another step to gathering more credits... and more proof that his promotion wasn’t a fluke.

Meanwhile, outside at the training field not too far from the building, Eden and Eleanor were engaged in an intense sparring session. The air crackled with their movement, both cadets drenched in sweat from hours of repetition.

Suddenly, Eden’s stance faltered, just slightly, and he stepped back, lowering his arms.

Eleanor blinked.

"Why did you stop?"

Eden frowned, his eyes narrowing faintly.

"I don’t know. I just... felt something. Like something was being plotted against us."

Eleanor tilted her head.

"Maybe you’re overworked. You’ve been going nonstop all day."

She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder with a small, encouraging smile.

"Don’t worry. I can train by myself."

Eden shook his head.

"No, it’s fine. I promised to help you train."

His voice steadied again, but his thoughts lingered on that strange feeling.

Eleanor smiled wider.

"Okay. Then let’s go again."

Their swords clashed once more under the fading sun, but somewhere deep in Eden’s gut, the unease remained, unshaped and silent.

****

Back in the accommodation, Leon casually opened the door to Elizabeth’s room, a space that had become his unofficial sanctuary in her absence.

He looked around and smiled.

It was neat. Undisturbed. The bed already molded to his liking.

He flopped onto the mattress with a contented sigh, his arms spread wide and eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Time to rest before the storm."

And with that, he closed his eyes, letting the soft hum of the room settle over him as his mind began to drift, toward the battles ahead, the strongholds he would break, and the legend he was going to slowly build one mission at a time.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by f(r)eew𝒆bn(o)vel.com